I didn’t have room to be reckless, curious, or selfish. Teenage motherhood taught me survival and how to choose stability over spontaneity every single time.
I had done everything right. That was the part no one talked about.
I stayed. I worked. I loved my husband faithfully. I raised our daughter with intention. I built a life that looked successful from the outside even when it felt lonely on the inside.
So why did it feel like something was missing? The answer scared me because it wasn’t a thing. I wanted for nothing and my husband made sure of that. It was a feeling. I missed being desired without asking. I missed being pursued without reminders. I missed being touched like someone was afraid to lose me.
Kairo loved me. I never doubted that. But love had slowly turned into logistics, into late nights and early mornings, into“I’ll make it up to you” texts and exhausted apologies whispered into my hair before he’d fall asleep.
He thought sleeping beside me was intimacy. I thought intimacy was also being chosen while awake.
I rubbed my arms, aware of how quiet the house was again. Upstairs, my husband was resting from the weight of an empire he carried so effortlessly. My daughter was growing into the same kind of girl I used to be. Hopeful and curious, but unaware of how quickly love could rewrite a life.
When I found out I was pregnant with Kennedi, I’d told Kairo I didn’t want to depend on my parents. I’d said I wanted to build something on our own since we chose to make adult decisions. But when he heard that, he also heard ‘work until your hands bleed if it means she never has to ask anyone for anything again.’
He took my words literally. He didn’t understand the part where I needed him too.
That was the start of our mind games. It started with how easily love could be misinterpreted when ambition translated affection into action without emotional detachment.
I swallowed hard, blinking back tears I was tired of crying in private. I wasn’t asking him to stop chasing his legacy. I was asking him not to forget me while he did.
I wasn’t looking for trouble, but I was starting to realize that neglect had a way of introducing it anyway. I still loved and wanted the man who promised forever. I just didn’t know forever could feel this lonely.
2
Khloe
Six months pregnant during Thanksgiving break was amazing. All I did was eat, sleep, and repeat. Kairo’s room was so cozy. We’d both survived our first semester of college, and somehow convinced our parents to let us spend Thanksgiving alone together since it’ll be our last.
The room was still quiet when I woke up from the nap we’d started after plates of turkey and dressing. Kairo was sleeping face to face with my belly like always.
“Listen, lil’ mama,” I heard him whispering to my belly with his thumb brushing slow circles like he already knew her. “You got the best mama in the world. She is strong, smart, and fine as hell. You gon’ see. And I promise you… I’m finna be the best dad I can be. You won’t have to worry about anything. I got y’all.”
My heart felt full and swollen like my ankles had been for weeks. I just watched him, in love, silent tears gathering but not falling. Because I was witnessing a future I couldn’t wait tostep into. He didn’t know I was awake yet, so when he finally glanced up and noticed my eyes on him, he froze, then smiled. “Oh, you up? I didn’t wake you, did I?”
I shook my head, smiling. “No. I just like listening to you run your mouth to her.”
He laughed leaning closer. “Run my mouth? I’m hyping up our child. Her father will be her favorite, thank you very much.”
I rolled my eyes, but he was probably right.
He propped himself on his elbow, eyes full of concern and affection. “You need something? You good? You been feeling okay?”
“Kairo, baby,” I said gently, reaching to rub his head, “I’m fine. I’m just a little nauseous. That’s all.”
His face changed instantly. “You sure? You need ginger ale? Crackers? You want me to rub your back? You want me to go get Mama G’s nausea tea? Just say the word.”
I waved him off, laughing. “Boy, I said I’m fine. Stop treating me like I’m dying.”
He stared at me, unbothered. “I’m treating you like you’re pregnant. There’s a difference.”
I sighed dramatically. “Well, don’t. You gon’ spoil me too much that I’ll be jealous and miss it when the baby gets here.”
“That’ll never happen,” he said, leaning down to kiss my stomach then leaned up to my lips.
I smiled against his mouth. “I can’t wait until January. I’m ready to move into our off-campus apartment. I’m tired of dorm food and curfews and sneaking up here like I’m not grown.”
His whole face lit up like somebody turned his future on full brightness. “January will change everything. I can’t wait to see how you decorate. I really wanted to get you the nicer apartment though, the one with the—”
